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aleister_authorTyler sighs as he pushes the latest medical encyclopedia aside. Reading about transplant surgery makes his eyes feel like they've been replaced with sandpaper. Time to turn in for the night. Day. Whatever.
One of the bonuses of having a vampire for a girlfriend is having someone who knows where to get good light proofing for your windows. He'll just lie down on the couch and grab a few minutes. Half hour, tops.
It's the noises that jerk him out of sleep a solid forty-five minutes later. Gunfire and screams will do that to almost anyone.
Thankfully, it's the television.
The television he hasn't turned on in, well, a week now. Not since Sam insisted on watching the butchering of Coming Home called Vietnightmares.
Tyler sets the text carefully on the coffee table and looks around.
"Hello?" Honestly? Anything supernatural can probably hear his heart beating, Not that the adrenaline helps...
His voice is apparently all the signal whatever's happening needs.
"You!"
"What?" he says in confusion to the new figure holding a a sub-machine gun to his face.
"You! All this is your fault!"
"What? No." Focus. Look past the muzzle, see the person.
"You. You forced, wrote our choices for us! Now it's time you lose yours."
Fuzzy hair, spiky. Light skin, dark hair and eye. "I have a chi-"
The gun fires.
Tyler jackknifes and falls off the chair in his room, the mass of an anatomy text making a thunderous bang when it hits the floor.
"Shit. I need some fresh air."
One of the bonuses of having a vampire for a girlfriend is having someone who knows where to get good light proofing for your windows. He'll just lie down on the couch and grab a few minutes. Half hour, tops.
It's the noises that jerk him out of sleep a solid forty-five minutes later. Gunfire and screams will do that to almost anyone.
Thankfully, it's the television.
The television he hasn't turned on in, well, a week now. Not since Sam insisted on watching the butchering of Coming Home called Vietnightmares.
Tyler sets the text carefully on the coffee table and looks around.
"Hello?" Honestly? Anything supernatural can probably hear his heart beating, Not that the adrenaline helps...
His voice is apparently all the signal whatever's happening needs.
"You!"
"What?" he says in confusion to the new figure holding a a sub-machine gun to his face.
"You! All this is your fault!"
"What? No." Focus. Look past the muzzle, see the person.
"You. You forced, wrote our choices for us! Now it's time you lose yours."
Fuzzy hair, spiky. Light skin, dark hair and eye. "I have a chi-"
The gun fires.
Tyler jackknifes and falls off the chair in his room, the mass of an anatomy text making a thunderous bang when it hits the floor.
"Shit. I need some fresh air."
